Reflections
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: Hidan's quietest when he's praying. KakuHida.


**Title: **Reflections  
><strong>Author:<strong> homesweethomicide13  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> KakuHida  
><strong>Warning:<strong> Some profanity, subtle yaoi.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Ohh I wish.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Hidan's quietest when he's praying.

**Reflections**

Hidan's quietest when he's praying.

I suppose that's one of the reasons why I let him do that ridiculous ritual. It might take forever, and I might think it's complete bullshit, but it shuts him up and I get half an hour of peace. Half an hour to count money, or read the paper, or generally sit and enjoy the silence.

He's not completely silent, of course. I don't think Hidan's ever been silent in his life. He even talks in his sleep. No, he'll lie there in the symbol of blood, pike through his chest, and he'll murmur to himself – words I can't, nor want to, understand. His eyes are normally closed when he does this, and I imagine he believes he's talking to his false god. Sometimes I want to interrupt him, just to mess with him, but the thought of the screaming and the cursing puts me off. I'd rather enjoy this rare moment of quiet.

In the early days, I'd get impatient with him, and cut his stupid ritual short. He was wasting time – and time, of course, was money. He'd bitch and whine for hours afterwards, until I was forced to mutilate him in some fashion, which usually involved the removal of his head. That was how we started our partnership. His religion irritated me, and my need for money irritated him. We'd argue over it, fight over it, and both end up more irritated than when we started.

Now, I just let him get on with it. I tell myself it's because I can't be bothered to deal with his whining, or his preaching. I tell myself it's for my own personal benefit, since I get this moment of peace, and Hidan is much more tolerable for a while afterwards. I tell myself that I allow him to sacrifice our enemies because Hidan has no need for the money he plucks from their corpses. His religion brings in a profit, in a way, and that's why I sit and patiently wait for his ritual to finish.

Of course, trying to convince myself of that is a lot harder when I know it's not true.

In a way, it _is_ for my own personal benefit. I let him pray because I like to watch him whilst he does. For a small moment in each day, I can look at him and not want to rip him limb from limb. I can observe the miniscule movements of his figure – the rise and fall of his chest, the odd muscle twitch, a flutter of eyelashes, the hypnotising movement of his throat as he swallows blood. I can sit and watch his lips moving, forming the ancient words of his religion, words he's spoken a thousand times before. His lips curve up slightly as he murmurs, and I'm not even sure he knows it happens. He's content, and he's happy, and for once he doesn't look so lost. When Hidan prays, he's pure again.

I'm pretty certain he's oblivious to my observations. The moment he lies down in that symbol and presses his rosary to his lips, he's lost in his prayer, unaware of the world around him. That's another reason why I sit and watch him. I doubt Hidan would notice if an enemy approached – immortal he may be, but if caught unawares, he'd still be in trouble. I discovered myself how easy it is to take off his head, how easy it is to render him defenceless. So I tell myself I sit here and guard him because it's easier if he doesn't get into trouble. I try not to think about the real reason I keep watch. Admitting that I worry for him is too much like admitting he's more to me than just my partner in crime.

He prays for forgiveness, I know that much. If he doesn't complete a kill, or it's not up to his standards, he immediately begs his god for forgiveness. There is nothing more important to him. When the kill has been good, and he feels satisfied, he'll pray to his god and thank him. At first, I couldn't tell the difference between the two prayers – they both looked identical to the outside eye. Now, however… now I can recognise the slight change in his expression, the positioning of his eyebrows, the set of his jaw as he whispers those ancient words. I notice how he clenches his fist around his rosary, or how he cradles it in a tender caress. I notice how hard he stabs the pike through his chest, how he'll either grimace as it pierces his heart, or how he'll smile. The first time I sat back with the knowledge that Hidan was praying for thanks, I realised I'd been watching him too much.

Hidan doesn't know that I've been reading the same article in the newspaper for a full thirty minutes, or that I've been counting the same wad of money. He doesn't know that watching him pray comes before both of those things – something I'll never admit out loud, even under torture. Every murmur, every sigh… it's almost music to the ears of a man who has distanced himself from other people for around seventy years.

I hate Hidan. He's loud, he's annoying, and he's immature. He doesn't use his head, doesn't think about his actions. He just dives straight in with the belief that his god will protect him from the world. But it's not his god that watches his back. It's not his god that comes to his aid (albeit rather reluctantly) when he's in trouble. It's not his god that fixes his broken body. His god isn't there to hear his prayers.

But I am.

By watching him in these peaceful moments, I've learnt more about Hidan than I possibly could by actually talking to him. Behind the brash, idiotic, daredevil attitude is a lost man, a fool who blundered into the wrong crowd, and believed them when they promised him salvation. He put his faith into a false god, a story told by crazy old men, and let them abuse him. He'd seen Hidan's reaction to a needle enough times to work out exactly how the Jashinists had produced an immortal. He'd let them experiment on him because they'd promised him a new life as a servant to Jashin. He'd let them rip away his humanity for the sake of creating history.

They'd signed their own death certificates the second they'd taken him in.

Hidan was supposed to be their saviour, their link to Jashin. Instead, he became their executioner. He slaughtered the priests at the temple, and then returned home to slaughter his neighbours, his friends, and his family. Everything he had promised loyalty to crumbled beneath his feet – except Jashin.

It might be a load of bullshit, but I have to admire his loyalty. If he misses one of these rituals, he panics and insists on correcting it immediately, no matter where we are. He'll scream at me that I don't understand the importance of it, that a heathen like me couldn't possibly grasp the concept of his faith, but he's wrong. I might not believe in a heavenly being, but I understand how important Hidan's faith is to him.

So I sit here and let him pray. I let him ease his mind, and his heart. Because Jashin is all Hidan has in this world. He has no home, no family, no one to love him or comfort him. I understand that feeling more than anything.

Except… maybe Hidan _does_ have someone to love him.

No. That's absurd. If shinobi aren't meant to love, then S-Class criminals certainly aren't. Love is too human, too personal. It blinds, and it hurts. Yet why else would I sit here, encouraging such ridiculous behaviour? Why else would I watch him, to admire him and to protect him? Why else would I smile when Hidan smiles at the climax of his prayer?

I force myself out of such ridiculous thoughts as I notice Hidan's lips pull back into that oh-so-familiar smile. Ignoring the urge to smile at the sight, I fold away the newspaper I'd been pretending to read, and stare hard at him, knowing he'll sense the look. Sure enough, a moment later, he turns his head and glares at me.

"What?"

"Are you finished yet? I don't have all day." The words I speak are almost like my own ritual, something I must do every time Hidan glares at me that way. "It's been half an hour."

"Alright, alright." Hidan scowls and sits up, hand wrapping around the pike through his chest. "Fucking heathen." He thinks I can't hear him when he mutters like that, but I can, and I'm glad for my mask when I feel myself giving in to the urge to smile. I stand when he stands, and watch as he pulls on his coat, returning the pike to somewhere concealed within. He rarely wears the coat when he prays – a mixture of enjoying the feeling of freedom, and wanting to avoid my complaints about him ruining the garment. When he glares at me again, I realise that no amount of convincing will push away the knowledge that I _do_ love this idiot.

I know I'll probably have to deal with his whining for a good three hours afterwards, and that he'll probably try to kill me, but I stride towards him, one hand lifting to my mask. He opens his mouth to ask me what I'm doing, but I don't give him a chance to speak. I grasp the front of his coat in my other hand and pull down my mask before I bring our lips together in a hard kiss. I don't give him much chance to respond. As quickly as it happened, it's over. I turn, fixing my mask back into place, and start to stride away.

"Hey, asshole!" I stop, ready for the onslaught of curses and insults I'm certain are due to follow. A hand grabs my arm and I allow it to turn me back around. I'll let him yell at me for a few minutes, because it'll make him feel better. If he hits me, however, I'll knock him back into his place. He's glaring again, his cheeks tinted red in his anger. I wait for him to start yelling, but it doesn't come. Instead, he yanks down my mask, and kisses me. Well, I can safely say I wasn't expecting that. This kiss lasts longer, and I'm actually surprised to find that I'm disappointed when it ends. Hidan smirks up at me, mischief in his eyes. "I wait all this time for you to stop watching me like some creep and kiss me already, and then you don't even do it properly? Tch. You really are a stingy bastard, y'know?"

As he strides away from me, a grin on his face, I realise that maybe Hidan isn't as stupid as I thought he was.

And that maybe, just maybe… criminals like us _are_ meant to love.


End file.
